


the only one of mine

by rvd



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rvd/pseuds/rvd
Summary: It’s been so long since Jongin saw Taemin in person, is the thing. Missing Taemin’s an ache that’s always there but it’s more prominent than ever these days. Jongin’s gone longer than a month without seeing Taemin before, but now, with the virus and the downtime between group activities, he feels almost at a loss.It shouldn’t be lonely without Taemin, and honestly, most of the time it’s not. He keeps himself busy for a reason.It’s more that—they spent so much time together on tour but then they got back to Seoul, and the tour was followed by a month of only seeing Taemin through video chats and magazines and endorsements and selcas he’d send to Jongin before putting them on Bubble, and they’re all starting to blur together, his Taemin with the rest of the world’s.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	the only one of mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the kind of nebulous period of April-June 2020. 
> 
> I wrote 90% of this in late October (before Kai's solo was announced even!) and just cleaned it up to post now so mentions of that and his new apartment are sparse.

Still soaked from the rain, Jongin lets himself into Taemin’s apartment. The code’s changed since the last time he was here but Taemin’s manager’s always been good at keeping him in the loop on that kind of stuff. Better than Taemin, who every couple of months ends up texting one of them because he’s locked out. 

“Taeminie?” Jongin calls as he pulls off his boots. There’s no answer, but Taemin hadn’t responded to the KakaoTalk Jongin sent on the ride over either so he didn’t really expect there to be. 

There’s a pair of Taemin’s shoes lined up against the step up into the rest of the apartment and Jongin lines his own next to those. 

Taemin doesn’t insist on slippers in his apartment, more out of laziness in buying them than any real opinion. It’s funny how Taemin’s had this place for a couple years now and in some ways it feels like a real adult apartment and in some ways it feels like Jongin’s sixteen again sneaking into the SHINee dorm past curfew and getting caught by Taemin’s hyungs. There are no hyungs here, but there are reminders of the dorm: how Taemin’s been saying he’ll get an entryway table soon for years, framed art on the floor waiting to be hung up, a pile of unopened packages just inside the kitchen, mismatched plates and cups in his cupboard haphazardly picked up when Taemin comes across something he likes, and no shower shoes or bath mat in the Western-style guest bathroom where Jongin hangs his jacket up to dry. 

Taemin’s always been neat but with his own brand of organized chaos that spreads throughout his apartment now that it’s all his own. There are haphazard books on his coffee table and his floor, some clothes discarded on the couch. Taemin must have been in a hurry when he left. There’s the lingering smell of Taemin’s cologne—a Gucci sandalwood oud scent Taemin nabbed from him as a sample a couple years ago and fell in love with. Jongin’s always enabled it by passing along whatever bottles Gucci sends him in press boxes. Jongin feels strangely possessive over Taemin using a scent that’s his in some way, like the way Taemin in his clothes drives him wild. 

It’s a painful relief to be here in Taemin’s space, to see all the little reminders of who Taemin is, that Jongin can recognize them all so clearly. 

It’s been so long since Jongin saw Taemin in person, is the thing. Missing Taemin’s an ache that’s always there but it’s more prominent than ever these days. Jongin’s gone longer than a month without seeing Taemin before, but all the times in the past he’s had his own activities, EXO or otherwise, and now, with the virus and downtime between group activities, he feels almost at a loss. 

Jongin has a couple of projects going on—sponsorships, modeling, the ever-elusive promise of a solo debut if he and the company can just finally iron out the details—but it’s an empty schedule compared to Taemin, who always has fifteen different projects going on at once, never content unless he’s running himself into the ground. Jongin’s enjoyed the downtime, getting to see more of his mom, sisters, and niece and nephew than he has for almost too long. He’s seen a lot of Wonsik, Moonkyu, and Kwonho, too, whoever of the group can get together. It’s been good. It shouldn’t be lonely without Taemin, and honestly, most of the time it’s not. He keeps himself busy for a reason. 

It’s more that—they spent so much time together on tour but then they got back to Seoul, and the tour was followed by a month of only seeing Taemin through video chats and magazines and endorsements and selcas he’d send to Jongin before putting them on Bubble, and they’re all starting to blur together, his Taemin with the rest of the world’s.

When they were much younger, when Taemin had just debuted and Jongin was left behind, when those weeks-long absences were new and newly awful, Jongin was scared Taemin would change his mind and not want to be his friend anymore, but Taemin never did. 

It turns out that fear never really went away entirely; it changed shape and hibernated under his skin, and now Jongin is twenty-six and terrified of looking at his best friend of half his life and just—not recognizing him. He’s never thought of love as something that could disappear in the course of a couple weeks, but this past month has rattled him, and today—

He can’t get it out of his head that one day Taemin will pull away from him and it’ll be the last time.

* * *

Jongin doesn’t realize he fell asleep until he’s being woken up by the noisy sound of Taemin coming home. The door opens heavily the way it always does. There’s the muffled thump of Taemin kicking his shoes off, probably not bothering to put them away. The shoe cupboard doors open and close, but the hangers rattling mean he’s putting away his jacket. 

There’s a pause. Then, “Jongin-ah?” 

“In here,” Jongin calls. He shifts onto his side toward the entry hallway, and sees Taemin’s head peek around the corner first before he doubles back to go through the kitchen door closest to the front door. He’s wearing a black mask, pulled down under his mouth but only just. It gives him a chinless look, and Jongin has always found it more endearing than it likely deserves.

Taemin’s got a bag of takeout over one wrist that he holds up before putting it on the island. “Sorry, I would have brought you back something if I knew you were going to be here. There’s some prepared meals in the fridge from the nutritionist if you want.” 

“It’s okay, I ate.” Jongin gets up, slow from sleep and rubs at his eyes. 

“Aw,” Taemin says, a bit sincere and a bit teasing. “Did you sleep well?”

Jongin ambles over to the island, leaning heavily against it. “That couch is more comfortable than it has any right to be.”

“You’re not the only one who’s fallen victim to it.” Jongin watches Taemin pull out each of the containers out of his carryout bag. Like an afterthought, he takes off his mask and throws it off to the side. 

“Why’s your jacket in my bathroom?” 

“I got caught in the rain. Has that stopped?”

“Mm, must have. I missed it completely.” 

Taemin pulls out a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, and starts mixing things haphazardly as Jongin watches. 

Skeptically, he says, “Bibimguksu on a rainy day?”

“It’s summer,” Taemin says defensively. “Besides, I’m not the one who got caught in the rain. I wanted spicy food.” 

“You’re going to end up catching a cold.” 

“Ah, the spice will balance it out.” Taemin pulls out a water bottle from the fridge and looks at him expectantly. “Do you want anything to drink?” Taemin asks. “I could make tea or something.” 

“I’ll take a water.” Taemin tosses the bottle to him underhand, and between the two of them, it’s a miracle Jongin catches it. Taemin gets out another bottle for himself and nods to the couch. 

Taemin sits cross legged on the floor to eat at the coffee table, and Jongin sits on the side of the couch angled toward him, one leg spread the length of the couch and one knee up. 

Jongin asks about the late photoshoot and Taemin goes on about the scheduling conflicts and the delay when one of the lights went out. Jongin lets it wash over him, only jumping in every so often to make fun of him a little, and by the time Taemin finishes eating and levers himself up onto the other side of the couch, Jongin feels lulled by the boring minutiae of Taemin’s day. 

There’s a beat of silence. Taemin stretches his arm out along the back of the couch, his hand stopping just short of Jongin’s. Jongin wants to reach out. He’s not sure he can. 

“I’m happy to see you, Jongin-ah, but why are you here?” 

“I sent you a KaTalk,” Jongin says. Taemin levels him with a look that always gets under Jongin’s skin. Jongin reaches out for Taemin’s knee, shaking it a little. “It’s been a while. I wanted to see you, I guess.” 

Taemin laughs. “Thanks, I guess. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other. You’ve been seeing a lot of Kwonho and Moonkyu though from what I hear.”

“Wonsikie too. It’s been good to have some time off,” Jongin knocks Taemin’s knee again, “not that you’d know what that even is.” 

Taemin laughs again, eyes crinkling. “Not this year, not really. I feel like I’ve barely even been home.” 

“I was expecting to see the place completely changed. I thought you were talking about finally hanging those photos?” He says mildly, “They’d look nice.” 

Taemin makes a face. “I need Euisoo-hyung to help me hang them.” 

“Taeminie,” Jongin teases. “You can’t make your manager do everything forever. What’s going to happen when you have to fend for yourself one day?” 

“We do it together!” Taemin protests. “We do it together. He has a better eye for those kinds of things than I do, is all.” He huffs and Jongin laughs. 

“Right, right, of course.” 

“I could get on _you_ for still living in the EXO dorm.”

Jongin holds up his hands, laughing, and lets it go. 

The silence only lingers for a couple of moments before Taemin nudges his leg with his foot. “Is everything okay?” 

“I, yeah, of course.” Jongin runs a hand through his hair. “I missed you, is all.”

Before he even has to get into the nitty gritties of it all, Taemin’s face crumples into something very sympathetic. “I missed you too, Jonginie.” 

He holds open his arms, and Jongin crawls in for the hug gratefully. 

It’s more of a cuddle, really, with the way Jongin is halfway spread out on top of Taemin and how his face is in Taemin’s neck. Taemin’s arms are a light, comforting weight on his back, and he’s a strong warm presence beneath him. One of Taemin’s hands comes up to run through Jongin’s hair. 

Taemin told him once, a year or so into their friendship, that he wasn’t much for skinship, and Jongin had been so shocked because it had never even occurred to him that his casual touches were something Taemin didn’t like. He said something like an apology and Taemin reached out to take Jongin’s hand and said it was different with him, different like it was with his SHINee hyungs. It had been such a sweet gift to be counted among the people Taemin liked to be touched by. Taemin’s easier with affection now and less tense in how he holds himself, but there’s still something different about the way they touch. Jongin can reach and Taemin will be warm beneath his touch. 

“SuperM broke something in us,” Taemin says. Jongin huffs into his neck. 

“I can’t go a couple weeks without seeing you anymore.” He didn’t mean it as a joke really, but Taemin laughs. He got all that endless time with Taemin, where they were working but it was together and they were touring but it was together, and had all the downtime that comes with that—the travel, the rest periods, the time in between. And then he didn’t. 

Taemin shuffles around, putting a bit of distance between them. Jongin ends up off of Taemin, but still in his lap, legs still tangled together. Close but far. 

That’s the other side of it really. That Taemin will let Jongin reach and reach and reach, and he’ll endulge it and even like it, but he’ll always be the first one to pull away, like he knows if he doesn’t Jongin won’t let go, will ideally hold onto him forever. Every time is its own small rejection and today, more than ever, Jongin can’t shake the fear of that inevitable, final rejection. 

Taemin picks at a piece of lint on the sleeve of his sweater, distracted by pulling it out, and while he does that, Jongin gets distracted looking at him. 

Jongin reaches out, thumbing Taemin’s ear. Taemin looks up at him, bringing Jongin’s hand up with him, but doesn’t pull away. “Did you get a new piercing?” Taemin’s only wearing hoops in his bottom holes but there’s an extra hole in the cartilage that Jongin only noticed because they’re so close now. It disappears under Jongin’s thumb, but he can feel it as he rubs the skin there. 

“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. It was for the new music video—kind of funny they actually had to bring someone out to set for it.” He says it casually, but his eyes are sharp on Jongin, watching him with something like wariness. 

He and Taemin go long stretches without seeing each other over anything but video calls and theirs has always been a friendship that has survived those long absences, that has picked up where it left off like no time passed at all. With their schedules, it would have to be. It’s new, this small, insecure part of Jongin that fears that one day that won’t be the case. That somewhere in their time apart Taemin will change irrevocably; that one day, when Taemin pulls away it will be the last time. He never wants Taemin to be someone he doesn’t know, someone he only sees through magazines and hears on the radio. He hates the idea that in just a couple weeks Taemin could become someone he doesn’t know or recognize. 

“Spoiled Taeminie,” Jongin says, letting go of Taemin’s ear and putting some distance between them. 

Taemin hesitates. “Are you really okay, Jongin-ah?” 

Jongin leans back, tipping his head backward and letting out a big breath. “I said I was, didn’t I? I’m okay.” 

“Then,” Taemin pauses like he’s not even sure he wants to ask. Like maybe he’s afraid of the answer. “Are _we_ okay?”

“Ah,” Jongin says, a bit horrified to hear his voice break. He doesn’t look at Taemin, who he knows must have a deer-in-headlights look himself. Jongin wouldn’t say he cries a lot, he cries just as much as he needs to, but it’s more than Taemin, who Jongin can count on two hands the number of times he’s really seen cry in all the time they’ve known each other. Taemin doesn’t know what to do with tears, his own or anyone else’s. He laughs or he freezes, and Jongin doesn’t hear laughter. 

“I missed you a lot, Taeminie. I know you were joking about SuperM but we really did spend a lot of time together, I guess I just got a little too used to it. It’s weird now not seeing you everyday. It didn’t used to be like that, did it? Or were we just better at dealing with it?” Jongin’s brushing up against the thing they don’t talk about, unspoken but understood. He can’t seem to stop, lately. All he does is press that bruise. “I can’t stop thinking about losing you,” he confesses, finally, finally looking at Taemin. He looks shell-shocked, pale. Jongin bets his heart is jackrabbiting in his chest, the way Jongin’s is in his. “I didn’t recognize you today, that’s why I came over.” It’s another confession that spills out because Taemin refuses to say anything and it turns out Jongin can’t stop now that he’s started. “I saw an ad at a bus stop on my way to meet Wonsik at that cafe we like, and on my way back home I realized it was you.” It feels silly to say it out loud now, in Taemin’s apartment, on Taemin’s couch, with all of Taemin’s attention on him. He’s seen pictures of _himself_ in magazines that he didn’t immediately recognize as himself, but today, he stopped in his tracks at not recognizing Taemin. It felt like a terrible betrayal. It felt like an awful look into a future where Taemin was just someone he used to know, someone he might not recognize on the street. “It really freaked me out, Taeminie. It really shook me. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the time we’re spending apart, and how easily you could become someone I don’t recognize. I don’t want that. I never want you to be someone I don’t know. If you change, I want to be there to see it.” 

Taemin is both very still and very quiet. Jongin almost wishes he could read him less well, just ignore the tense line of Taemin’s shoulders and go on without feeling like he’s twisting a knife, but he does go on. 

“I think it’s time we stop running from this. We had all these excuses for so long but time isn’t passing any slower. You know how I feel.” And then, because ambiguity hasn’t gotten them anywhere, “Taeminie-yah, I—”

“Don’t,” Taemin says. There is real fear in his eyes, and Jongin hates having been the one to put it there. 

“Taemin-ah,” he insists, nevertheless. “What is all this work for if we can’t have a life?” He has to continue because it’s suddenly unbearable that they’ve gone so long without either of them having the courage to just _say_ what they both know to be true. Jongin has gone ten years thinking that mutual understanding is enough, that hearing how Taemin feels isn’t needed when he _knows_ how Taemin feels. They don’t have secrets from each other, but that doesn’t mean they’re forthright either. Jongin knows everything there is to know about Taemin, but that doesn’t mean Taemin is always the one to tell him. 

Jongin knows Taemin loves him, and he knows that terrifies him too. 

“If you say it,” Taemin says over him. “There is no taking it back—”

“I love you,” he says, and sees the way Taemin’s eyes flutter shut. His hand clenches then flexes on the back of the couch, centimeters from Jongin’s own. 

It’s out there now between them. There is no taking it back. However this goes, there’s no going back either. 

Jongin feels a strange sense of invincibility, now that it’s all out there. He didn’t realize how much that anxiety was weighing on him, his recent fears and the unspoken truth between them. He didn’t realize secrecy was a burden until it was lifted. Whatever happens now, he and Taemin are deciding it together. 

“Jonginie,” Taemin says, his name coming out of him like he’s winded. His head falls forward into his knees, his arms coming up protectively around it. It breaks Jongin’s heart a bit to see it. 

“Taeminie-yah.” Jongin knocks Taemin’s knee with his foot gently. “What are you so afraid of? Me?” 

“Of course you.” Taemin’s head is still in his knees so it comes out muffled. 

“I was joking.” Jongin reaches out and runs his hands gently through Taemin’s hair. Taemin makes a muffled sound, but doesn’t show his face. “Come on, Taeminie. I just wanna see you while we talk. I’m so scary you can’t even look at me?” 

Taemin raises his head a little, so his eyes are visible from above his arms, and says, “What’s not scary?” 

“I don’t know, you’ve looked at my face for a decade, it can’t be that bad.” Jongin tugs at Taemin’s wrists, drawing them forward and between them so Taemin can’t hide. 

“Aish,” Taemin says, but he lets Jongin hold on, and doesn’t pull away when Jongin readjusts his grip so they’re holding hands. Something very close to hope goes through Jongin’s chest. “You’re digging for compliments, you know that’s not what I mean.” 

“Then what do you mean?” 

“You… You’re the most important person in my life, Jonginie.” There’s plain desperation in his voice. Jongin rubs the slope of his thumb from wrist to knuckle to wrist to knuckle again, aiming for something like soothing. Taemin almost says something a couple of times, clearly looking for the perfect words, then blurts out, “If this blew up on us—Jongin-ah, I can’t even go a day without hearing your voice, even if it’s just for five minutes. We’d be giving up something solid and stable and _good_ for something that could end in two weeks, and then where would we be?” 

“Why are you already thinking about breaking up?” Jongin teases, a bit weakly. “We haven’t even gone on our first date.” Saying it—taking it as a given that he and Taemin will _have_ a first date—feels so much like jinxing it that he wants to knock on wood, but he’d have to let go of Taemin’s hands for that and letting go of him seems like inviting the worst kind of luck. 

“ _Because_. I love you,” Taemin says. Jongin completely underestimated how it’d feel to hear it out loud. He knew—he always knew how Taemin felt. Maybe not at fourteen but by eighteen he more than knew where he and Taemin stood. It’s a love that’s lasted for a decade and Jongin feels a sudden, complete certainty that it will last decades more—the rest of his life. He knew Taemin loved him and it still feels like he’s been punched when Taemin says it, like he’s lying on the floor at the end of a five-hour dance practice trying desperately to catch his breath. “I have to think about those things so you don’t,” Taemin is saying when the blood stops rushing in Jongin’s ears. “I have to think of the worst case scenarios because if we jump into something and I lose you— Jonginie, I don’t know what my life looks like without you in it. I never want to know.”

“Taeminie,” Jongin gets out. “Taeminie-yah, say it again.”

“I love you,” Taemin says, after a moment of hesitation. He squeezes Jongin’s hands. “I love you, Jonginie. Of course I love you.” 

Jongin pitches forward slowly into Taemin, coming to rest with his forehead on Taemin’s shoulder. One of Taemin’s hands comes free to run through Jongin’s hair, and it’s the best thing Jongin’s ever felt. 

“If we break up,” Jongin says into Taemin’s shoulder, and feels as much as hears the surprised noise Taemin makes, “then I don’t know, we break up. I’m still going to be in your life, you’re still going to be the most important person in mine. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. I’ve loved you half my life, Taeminie-yah, I hardly remember my life before you and there’s never going to _be_ an after you. It’s unconditional. Whatever our relationship is, that’s solid. I promise that if you can’t count on us romantically, you can count on that.”

Taemin makes another noise low in his throat. “Jongin-ah,” he says, gently tugging Jongin up by his hair. “Okay,” he says, eyes locked on his. 

“Okay?” Jongin repeats, not quite understanding. 

“You’ve convinced me,” Taemin says. One hand stays in his hair while the other curls into his shirt; both now pull him closer. “Now kiss me.” 

Jongin’s thought about this so many times and still wasn’t ready for the reality of Taemin drawing him in, of ducking down and feeling Taemin’s warm breath against his face, and the soft feel of Taemin’s lips on his. Kissing him because he loves him. 

Taemin makes a soft sound as their lips meet and he opens his mouth just enough to readjust, Jongin’s top lip between his. His hand detangles from Jongin’s hair to cup his jaw, and Jongin lets Taemin move him wherever he wants, lets him set the pace. Taemin sucks Jongin’s bottom lip between his, drawing a groan from him. 

Taemin throws a leg over Jongin’s and then he’s straddling his lap, hot and sturdy above him. Jongin gasps into his mouth before it’s muffled again by Taemin’s kiss. Jongin palms his ass helplessly, unable to do more than just take what Taemin bears down on him. 

Taemin’s hands go to Jongin’s neck, angling his face upward because Taemin’s above him now. It’s insane how hot it is looking up at Taemin, and Jongin drags him in closer. He can feel Taemin’s cock starting to get hard against him, and Taemin’s ass against his own half-hard dick. He grinds up into him, adjusting his grip on Taemin to hold him down by the hips, and almost gasps at how good the friction feels. Taemin moans and Jongin pulls him in with a hand on the back of his neck to chase that sound. 

“C’mon,” Taemin says against his mouth. He pulls at Jongin’s shirt, and reseats himself further back in Jongin’s lap. Jongin hears himself make a needy noise and pulls Taemin back in with the hand on his ass, the other still cupping his neck. Taemin’s so vulnerable there, warm and soft and responsive when Jongin kisses him. Taemin keeps making these little noises Jongin wants to hear more of. Taemin retaliates by sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and Jongin gasps. 

Taemin pulls back, quicker than Jongin can follow him. He leans back against Jongin’s hand on his ass, and swipes his thumb across Jongin’s jaw. “ _Bedroom_ , Jongin-ah, come on.”

Jongin lets Taemin slide out of his lap, lets Taemin drag him into his bedroom. He doesn’t _allow_ the forceful shove Taemin gives him in the middle of his chest as much as it catches him off guard, and he’s falling on his back on Taemin’s bed before he can stop it. Taemin climbs on top of him, straddling his hips and staring down at him with the kind of look that has quickly started to drive Jongin crazy. Jongin’s hands come up to Taemin’s hips, half steadying and half possessive. “Come on,” he says, knowing it comes out a little desperate and not caring. “I wanna kiss you.” 

Taemin lets out a little laugh, startled maybe. “I should have expected this,” he says softly, coming down to kiss Jongin. He licks into Jongin’s mouth, that sharp tongue cutting itself across his teeth, and the whole world narrows down to Taemin’s mouth and Taemin’s tongue and Taemin’s hand on his face.

“Expected what?” Jongin remembers to ask, a couple minutes later. 

“That you’d be, you know, a romantic.” Taemin nuzzles into his neck, the soft butterfly kisses he’s pressing there taking the sting of his words away. Taemin likes it, and it’s as clear as if he said it. 

“Ah, Taeminie, when a man loves a man very much…”

Taemin bites his neck, much harder than he bit before. 

“Yah,” Jongin yelps. He bucks his hips and throws his weight around a little, flipping Taemin over and pushing him onto his back. He holds him down by his wrists, slipping one leg between Taemin’s. Taemin started laughing before Jongin even lunged and while Jongin’s knocked the breath out of him, he’s still laughing while Jongin holds himself above him. “ _Yah_ ,” Jongin repeats. It’s half hearted though because he starts laughing too. 

It takes the tension out of the room, and when Taemin grins and tilts his head in an obvious invitation, Jongin kisses the laughter right out of his mouth. 

Jongin doesn’t think he’s ever laughed this much during sex. He’s always enjoyed sex. It’s been at turns good and mind-blowing—he’s certainly never had any complaints—but it’s never been _fun_ the way sex with Taemin is fun. He’s never had a first time with someone like this. It could be this is how it feels when you fuck your best friend, but Jongin doesn’t think it’d feel like this with anyone but Taemin. 

Taemin’s dick against his thigh is getting hard to ignore. Even harder to ignore is the way Taemin is rutting against his thigh with shallow involuntary thrusts. 

Jongin lets go of one of Taemin’s wrists to get a hand between them, unbuttoning Taemin’s jeans and slipping into his underwear. He bears his weight on the other hand, feeling Taemin’s wrist twitch under him at the new pressure. Taemin’s arm wraps around Jongin, his newly free hand coming to rest on the small of Jongin’s back. 

He hears Taemin inhale sharply as he finally gets a hand on his dick, feels the involuntary thrust into his hand before Taemin thrusts a couple more times with more purpose. Jongin meets him, matching the rhythm Taemin sets with his hand. It’s unbelievably hot watching Taemin come apart underneath him, pupils blown wide, mouth pink and puffy from kissing Jongin, skin flushed because of what Jongin is doing to him. The way his body twists and arches as he thrusts up into Jongin, the power and strength behind it. 

Jongin thumbs the head of Taemin’s dick, gratified and so fucking turned on when precome starts to bead there. Jongin keeps going, spurred on by the come leaking over his fingers, making the tight grip of Jongin’s fist up and down Taemin’s cock slicker. When Taemin thrusts up, Jongin’s fist slaps against Taemin’s balls. Jongin almost takes his hand of Taemin’s dick then and there to touch his own. 

“Stop, stop,” Taemin gasps, getting his free hand between them and pushing at Jongin’s chest. Jongin’s hand stills, and he pulls away, sitting back. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Jongin says, unable to say anything else. Taemin twists out from under him, going to dig through his bedside drawers with a ferocity that nearly knocks over the humidifier. 

His cock’s still bobbing out of his jeans as he digs around, slapping once or twice against his stomach. It’s half endearing and half obscenely hot. Jongin can see the shine of his precome on the head, the same precome on his hand now. Instead of dragging Taemin over and swallowing him down until he comes down his throat, Jongin licks the precome off his fingers. 

Taemin’s looking at him with a dark look when he finishes, a condom and lube in his hands. “Take off your clothes,” he says. 

“You don’t want to do it yourself?” Jongin starts unbuttoning his shirt one deliberate button at a time, watching Taemin’s gaze follow the movement as his shirt falls open to bare hints of pecs, the flat planes of his chest, then down to his abs. 

Taemin comes closer, one hand resting above Jongin’s on the next button, hand tantalizingly brushing the skin of his stomach. Taemin’s still looking at the stretch of new skin revealed, and their hands intertwined on top of it. “If I undress you, you’re going to want to undress me.” He looks up, his face very close to Jongin’s with such an intense gaze. “And I think if I let you undress me,” Taemin says, breath tickling Jongin’s cheek and making his eyes involuntarily flutter shut. “You’re going to get distracted.” 

He pulls away smoothly and is off the bed before Jongin has even opened his eyes. 

“You’re a tease,” Jongin huffs, eyes on Taemin kicking off his jeans. 

“Get _undressed_ and I won’t be.” 

Jongin quickly undoes the last couple buttons of his shirt and chucks off his pants, throwing both vaguely toward Taemin’s laundry hamper. 

Taemin’s naked when Jongin looks back at him. It’s nothing Jongin hasn’t seen before in countless contexts but it’s here, this context, that matters now. 

Taemin’s beautiful. Jongin’s always known that but it’s context again that has it a little overwhelming in its scope. 

Jongin’s loved him for so long and he’s so beautiful. It’s the kind of thing that has confounded poets and lovers of every generation; the simple act of loving someone and being loved by them that connects Jongin all the way back to his first forefather and foremother. 

Jongin’s gaze lingers over the pale expanse of Taemin’s body, the flat length of his stomach on display, the detailed tattoo on his side, his deceptively strong arms and small hands, his lithe hips and delicate waist. His cock bobbing against his stomach, pink and long. 

It’s the kind of thing that has ruined him for anyone else.

Jongin almost can’t believe that this is finally happening. He thought it would one day, probably, but the realization of something he’s yearned for for over a decade _today, now_ has Jongin buzzing under his skin. 

Taemin smiles as he comes over. He slips into the V of Jongin’s legs and brings one finger up to the underside of Jongin’s chin, closing his apparently gaping mouth. “Hi,” Taemin says. 

“Hi,” Jongin says, noticing just how rough his voice comes out. “Can I blow you?” 

“I want you to _fuck_ me.” Taemin moves in closer to straddle Jongin’s hips, giving an enticing roll of his hips as he settles in Jongin’s lap. 

Jongin’s hands immediately come up to rest on Taemin’s hips. “I could blow you _then_ fuck you,” is Jongin’s counterargument. 

Taemin snorts. “Maybe if you caught me ten years ago.” 

“I wanted to,” Jongin says. “You know that right? That I wanted you ten years ago?”

Taemin’s eyes have been very, very soft and they somehow go softer. “I know,” he says. “I wanted you ten years ago, too.” Taemin’s hands come up to cup Jongin’s face, one thumb delicately brushing Jongin’s cheekbone. “You knew that though.”

“Yeah,” Jongin says. Jongin had never doubted that he and Taemin were on the same page the past ten years, but it’s something different to hear it. 

“It wasn’t the right time,” Taemin says. That’s something Jongin’s known too, or at least something Jongin knew Taemin believed. 

“Don’t lie to me, Taemin-ah,” 

“I was scared,” Taemin admits. 

“I’ve got you.” Jongin squeezes Taemin’s hips to emphasize his point. “I’ve always got you.” 

Taemin’s face flushes the most beautiful pink as his hands clench tightly around Jongin’s shoulders. He ducks into Jongin’s neck, his warm breath ticking as he inhales sharply in and out. Jongin rubs a hand up and down his back. “I’ve got you too,” he says, barely a rustle against his skin. “You’ve always got me.” They stay there for a moment, Jongin’s arousal present but not pressing, Taemin’s weight more a comfort than a turn on. 

It’s nice, Jongin thinks as Taemin noses at Jongin’s jaw. Then he bites Jongin’s earlobe. 

“Yah,” Jongin complains, jerking away. 

Taemin pursues him quickly, licking a line up Jongin’s jaw, and taking his earlobe between his teeth again. Admittedly, it’s more gentle this time, and a bit of a turn on, Taemin’s teeth against his skin. Still, Jongin makes a sound of annoyance because years of experience have taught him not to encourage Taemin too much when he’s being a brat. Because he doesn’t know when to quit, Taemin licks into his ear, reminding Jongin of junior high dares and wrestling matches and Taemin being a brat because he knew no matter how much Jongin complained, he’d let him get away with it. 

Jongin grips Taemin by the hips, twisting them over and throwing Taemin back across the bed, pinning him down. 

Beneath him, Taemin’s smirking, a playful, triumphant glint in his eye. Jongin realizes too late he’s done exactly what Taemin wanted him to do, and ducks his head to cover a laugh. 

“Fuck me already, Jonginie.” He arches his hips up into Jongin’s like punctuation. 

“You’re a menace,” Jongin says, reaching for the lube Taemin left discarded near the edge of the bed. 

“I get results.” Taemin’s eyes are heavy on Jongin as he warms up the lube between his fingers and slicks up. 

“Is this what you wanted, Taeminie?” Jongin asks, as he tests the tight ring of muscle at Taemin’s entrance with the tip of a finger. “Were these the results you were expecting?”

“Yes,” Taemin exhales. “I can take more.” 

“I know you can be more patient than that,” Jongin teases. He adds a second finger to Taemin’s rim, still not going any further than testing and teasing. 

Taemin grunts and pulls Jongin down for a kiss. Jongin’s multitasking is admittedly not the best while fucking Taemin, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem for Taemin because while he’s kissing Jongin’s lights out, he thrusts down onto Jongin’s fingers, bringing them inside himself. 

“Taeminie,” Jongin says, aiming for chiding and mostly just sounding punched out and turned on. 

Taemin’s taken control of the situation, fucking himself slowly on Jongin’s fingers. It’s unreal how tight he is around just his _fingers._ Thinking about Taemin fucking himself on Jongin’s cock has it throbbing almost painfully with how turned on he is. 

He’s hit with a wave of fondness so strong, he kind of wants to laugh. He really should have known this was how it was going to go. Taemin’s generally easy going in his personal life until he hits a stubborn streak, but a perfectionist in his work. He should have expected Taemin would bring his critical eye and brilliant mind to sex too. 

Right now, taking two of his fingers, Taemin’s giving him the same look he does when they review video. Appraising, analytical, and slightly removed. It’s a challenge. It says Taemin knows he can do better, apply himself more, and with the right encouragement Taemin can be the one to bring it out. Jongin’s seen it countless times since SuperM started up, when he and Taemin would divide and conquer the maknaes with criticism and praise in equal turns. Taemin usually took Ten and Taeyong while Jongin took Mark and Lucas. 

He used to see it when he was still a trainee after Taemin debuted, and rather than being discouraging, Taemin looking at him like that made him burn brighter. It was better that Taemin thought him capable of more, capable of meeting and rising above the expectations of him, than not even being worth his time or effort. 

That look says they’re equals, both capable of learning and teaching.

It’s a heady thing to trust someone the way he trusts Taemin, headier still to be trusted that much in return. 

“You think you can take another one?” Jongin asks. He’d be embarrassed at how raw his voice is if it were anyone else but Taemin in bed with him. 

“I can take your cock,” Taemin says. “Jonginie, fuck me already.”

So Jongin does. He slips his fingers out of Taemin’s ass, noting the sigh Taemin makes when he does, somehow tears the condom open even with slippery fingers, and lubes himself back up. 

He lines himself up and looks back up at Taemin. “I’m gonna—”

An exasperated “Jonginie,” is all Taemin gets out before Jongin fucks into him. 

Taemin feels incredible around him, tight and hot and absolutely unreal. That it’s Taemin underneath him and around him overwhelms every other sensation. His every feeling, his every thought is _Taemin Taemin Taemin._

It’s Taemin’s slim hips under his hands, Taemin’s legs bracketing his waist, Taemin’s inner thighs pressed against his side, Taemin’s arm around his shoulders, and Taemin’s hand on his lower back spurring him forward. 

It’s Taemin’s cock rubbing against his abs with every thrust, Taemin’s ass his balls slap against, Taemin’s hand clenching in his hair, Taemin’s voice telling him to go harder. 

Jongin runs one hand along the smooth skin of Taemin’s thigh, enjoying the feeling and Taemin’s breathy exhales, before hitching his knee up, giving Jongin a better angle to hit his prostate. 

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Taemin gets out, “That’s it, Jonginie, that’s—fuck, keep going. That’s so good, you’re doing so well.” 

Some wires have definitely gotten crossed in Jongin’s brain because something in him snaps at Taemin’s praise, the same words he might use in the practice room to compliment Jongin after nailing a complicated sequence on the first try. 

Jongin fucks Taemin in earnest, snapping his hips in a rhythm Taemin instinctively matches. All the years of dancing together have led to this, Jongin thinks nonsensically. All those years spent learning how their bodies move, their own and each other’s, apart then together, have created a nonverbal communication between that that flares to life now. 

“Yeah,” Taemin is saying, voice catching every time Jongin fucks into him. “Yeah, Jonginie, yeah, right there, you’re doing so well.” Taemin’s eyes are wide and his face is flushed so pretty and pink, and he’s arching into him _so_ well. He’s pressing on Jongin’s shoulders and lower back—subtly directing him, Jongin realizes. He almost laughs, but it’s really just—hot. Unbelievably hot that Taemin is taking control of this situation, guiding Jongin to fuck him as hard and as fast as he wants, finally telling Jongin what he wants and taking it from him. 

“Taeminie—” Jongin says, overwhelmed by the whole experience. How his dick looks fucking in and out of Taemin is almost enough to make him come, even without taking into account how good it _feels._ “You look so good like this—spread out just for me.” 

One of Taemin’s hands comes up to thumb his jaw. “Just you, Jonginie.”

Jongin has to lean down to kiss him then, because he’s so hot and Jongin’s so in love with him. The kiss is wet and messy, half enthusiastic and half sharing breath as their rhythm starts to stutter, Jongin first then Taemin’s as Jongin’s becomes unpredictable. 

The hand not holding himself up wraps around Taemin’s dick, stripping him in a matching, ruthless pace. Jongin’s determined to hold out until Taemin comes, and he does, shooting out across both their stomachs. It’s the sight of Taemin’s come smeared between the two of them and Taemin’s face as he does that brings Jongin over the edge. He thrusts once, twice, before coming deep inside Taemin. 

Jongin didn’t realize his arm was shaking until it gives out and he falls on top of Taemin, boneless and satisfied. Jongin’s head comes to rest on Taemin’s shoulder as he catches his breath. Taemin’s fingers card through his sweaty hair. 

“You’re heavy, Jongin-ah.” There’s no urgency to how he says it, but Jongin rolls over onto his back anyway. 

Taemin curls onto his side languidly, propping his head up on a bent elbow. His other hand falls delicately and deliberately on Jongin’s chest. Jongin’s eyes close briefly as Taemin brushes his fingers up and down Jongin’s chest. 

Now that Jongin’s lying here with Taemin warm at his side, the last of his energy has deserted him. It feels like the end of a concert, physically exhausted but mentally exhilarated, still coming down from a couple hours’ worth of adrenaline and the concentrated love of tens of thousands of fans. That level of love and attention sometimes feels like being too close to an open fire, the kind where if you take a step forward your eyebrows might get singed off. Jongin runs a hand through Taemin’s hair. Loving Taemin these past ten years has felt like that, and this? Tonight? Has been like stepping into the bonfire and self immolating. All of him’s on fire. 

“That was good,” Jongin says. 

Taemin laughs. “Really good, I thought.”

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees. He drags Taemin down with a hand on the back of his neck for a kiss. “Really, really good.”

Taemin pulls back and asks softly, “Do you want notes?” Jongin can feel Taemin’s mischievous smile against his lips. 

“Do I want notes,” Jongin grumbles, pushing Taemin backward and pursuing quickly to jab at his ticklish sides. 

Taemin cackles and twists away from Jongin’s hands. “It was an honest question!”

“You think you’re so funny.” 

Taemin smiles angelically up at him and Jongin really can’t help kissing him again. 


End file.
